


My Love Did Come To Erebor

by theblindtorpedo



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Committed Relationship, Dwarf Courting, First Time, Fluff, Frottage, Gift Giving, M/M, Oral Sex, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:01:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25369519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theblindtorpedo/pseuds/theblindtorpedo
Summary: A diplomatic mission to the East always elicits a deep, trembling in Erestor's breast, anticipation for a longing to be satisfied. Like two planets in perpendicular orbit the secret lovers meet rarely, and Erestor and Ori know there is no time to waste.Or, the one in which Ori basically proposes and they have fluffy, romantic dwarf/elf sex.
Relationships: Erestor/Ori (Tolkien)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	My Love Did Come To Erebor

He covered his face with his hands. He made no sound, but tears glistened where they spilled from the spaces between his fingers. Erestor’s own distress at seeing the dwarf so emotional manifested in a small reach of one arm, fingertips resting on the back of Ori’s left hand.

“I think I love you. I’m sorry,” came the muffled explanation.

“Why?”

“Dwarves only have one love. Sometimes not even that. I don’t think I shall be able to stop loving you now. If you go it won’t be so bad. There is much I want to do here and many dwarves do not marry. They lead fine lives following their own interests.”

“Ori.”

Erestor’s voice interrupted the dwarf’s babbling, and Ori drew his hands away, staring into the elf’s serious eyes. Erestor’s hand still rested on top of his. “I have a duty to my lord,” Erestor continued, “I must go, Rivendell needs me. But know that I shall be lighter of heart with the blessing of your love. I shall know it and treasure it.”

Erestor kissed him and it was not in the tentative and tender way their kisses over the past two weeks had been. This kiss was forceful and open mouthed, pressing at Ori’s shocked unmoving lips until the dwarf melted under him and returned it. With each meeting of hot lips and close breaths Erestor demanded and pleaded: please, believe me.

“And I am glad,” he finally said pulling away, one hand on Ori’s cheek, “For I believe I love you as well. Elves it seems are not so different. We too have one mate per life. Long ago I passed the age of marriage and I was satisfied with my solitary existence, but if you were an Elf maid I would have silver rings forged for our betrothal. As you are not all I can offer you is myself. For the time that we have.”

Suddenly, he was thrown back as his arms were filled with jubilant dwarf. Ori clutched at the front of Erestor’s robes, drawing him in possessively. Erestor bent his head to meet the questing lips. Nimble tongue swiped at the opening of his mouth and was granted entrance. In this fevered movement, Erestor’s arms wrapped around the sturdy back. Ori turned his head to leave small kisses from the indent of the elf’s ear down his neck and Erestor let himself enjoy these attentions for several minutes, but then hands moved down to grasp the dwarf’s hips, holding him in place as he stood.

“Are you taking me somewhere?”

“To the bed. Though it may be small I deem it might be more comfortable than the chair.”

Comprehension dawned. “Then we are?” Ori breathed, daring to hope.

“Yes. We have both said we do not think there shall be another. Did I misread you? Do you want an official ceremony?” They had reached the bed now, Erestor sitting on the edge, with Ori perched in his lap.

“No! There would be no way to explain. An elf and a dwarf . . . it would be wrong.”

“Not wrong. Both our people believe in the bonding of souls. I have heard of this bond transcending race, but it is unconventional.”

“I still want you.” 

“And you shall have all of me, even when we are apart. You already do. Please, Ori, son of Orin, grant me the pleasure of sharing a bed. In our union, as binding as rings, let it be known to us that we belong to each other: in both body and soul.”

In response Ori pressed his palms against Erestor’s chest and kissed him again, strong with conviction. Erestor felt a warmth wash over his mind, a numbing mental elation separate from the lusty call of intimate bodies. It made him giddy.

Through with kissing for the moment, Ori coyly touched the open collar of Erestor’s robe, then toyed with the utilitarian clasp that lay in his collarbone. His head tilted, inquiring.

“You may,” Erestor said.

Permission granted, Ori worked to unhook each clasp, while Erestor undid the several buckles of Ori’s belt, throwing it to the floor once he could pull it off. Once the clasps were open Erestor struggled out of his outer robe and tunic and Ori pulled his own shirt off. These too fell to the floor.

The elf moved to lie down, legs bent to accommodate the bed’s short length, pulling Ori on top of him. They gazed at each other with matching wonderment. Erestor held him up by his shoulders, but Ori’s hands wandered, tracing lines along the pale skin that few had seen. Their progress was languid and slow; there were no requirements or expectations to uphold.

“You’re beautiful.”

Erestor exhaled in a contented sigh as Ori continued to press and stroke. It seemed that with each touch Ori was drawing the warmth from his head to that part of his body. It swam through his veins until his whole body hummed with hot energy.

Once he had his fill of worshipping Erestor’s body Ori pushed the elf’s arms off him and Erestor let them fall futile to his side. Ori seemed to have some end in mind and he would surrender himself to it. He had declared that they were to make love with the surety he decided everything in his life, despite the fact that consorting with a male dwarf was outside his sphere of knowledge. Though he knew not how they would achieve it he was resolved to do so. It was the culmination of that fateful day in the library so long ago; they both longed for a same end. In this shared desire to love and be loved they were equals.

Ori captured Erestor’s top lip in a quick kiss before moving down to run his lips along the slope of collarbone. Erestor arched his head back, yielding to provide him with more room, but Ori did not need it. He trailed kisses down the taunt chest, hands still probing. Hair brushed over sensitive places, eliciting inaudible gasps from the elf. Erestor found he liked the rough sensations of the dwarf’s beard on skin, knowing it would soon be soothed by soft lips, but his hands clenched in the linens as Ori became bolder, applying the scrape of teeth in the dip of a hip or the swipe of tongue around the navel.

Erestor had some idea now where Ori was headed. The dwarf was tugging at the hem of the elf’s black leggings and Erestor sat up, reaching around the dwarf to urgently strip them off, along with the thin cloth of undergarment he wore beneath them, and threw it all over the side of the bed to join the rest of their clothes. He then propped himself up against the headboard.

Ori was now lying between Erestor’s legs, admiring the expanse of the elf’s body. It amazed him that this belonged to him. Proud Erestor, Chief Counsellor to Lord Elrond of Rivendell, was lying naked in his bed. He had often been told he was blessed with imagination (it was not always a compliment), but he could never have envisioned this. Even since he realized he loved Erestor fantasies had never been able to generate the thrill of reality. He placed a hand on each thigh, not daring to look down yet. He wanted to savor Erestor’s complete submission. His elegant hair was disheveled, braids unraveled, stray strands falling about his face. The elf’s body trembled, almost imperceptibly, but even this was extraordinary too see. It excited Ori to think that no one save himself had been able to awake this part of the intensely private and collected Counsellor. It was all the more miraculous that Erestor would let no one but Ori see him this way. The elf did not meet his eyes, but his body entreated as he spread his legs further. Ori felt the muscles tense.

“You want this very much,” he marveled.

Erestor’s dignity would not let him reply, but then Ori’s hands were on his aching hardness and the blood rushed from his brain. The hands that smeared ink and slew orcs now left him speechless with yearning as ancient as the Firstborn. Erestor wondered how he had thought his life had been complete before Ori, before this. He had been born with a void he had not recognized for its constancy. This void was no more, because in it now sat a dwarf, his love who undeniably loved him back. This act, this building of tension within him, was only another way of expressing that love. He was certain that no one else would be able to reduce him in the way Ori was doing. Half the exhilaration was in knowing Ori wanted to bring him this pleasure, wanted to see him so vulnerable. In the safety of his lover’s bed he could lose himself, shed all layers of propriety and simply be. The stresses of life would be shed and he would be the pure spirit of Erestor, freed by trusting caresses and kisses. So, when rough hands were replaced by wet heat he had to press a hand to his mouth to suppress moans. The other beat down into the bed as his hips jerked seeking more, but Erestor had underestimated the strength of dwarves. He could not escape the firm grip with which Ori held him to the bed though his body strained to rise into that mouth.

Ori sucked and licked diligently, the feeling of Erestor writhing under his ministrations causing heat to pool between his own legs, but he would not tend to that yet. He could feel Erestor growing more and more frantic, hips straining against the force by which Ori pinned him, toes curling and uncurling in his distress. Finally, Ori slipped down once more, engulfing him entirely and the elf was undone. Erestor cried out in quick strings of Elvish. Ori had not the time to ponder their meaning, for he was not even done swallowing when he was pulled up roughly into a crushing kiss. Ori too, then was lost. He had been denying himself for the purpose of pleasuring his lover, but now he let himself be consumed by his own lust. He kissed back fiercely, hands grasping and pulling at cheek and neck while Erestor divested him of his trousers. They were both fully naked now and Erestor stopped biting color into those thin, pale lips, to part the dwarf’s beard with one hand, admitting himself to suck and nip at the red flesh hidden there. It was so soft in comparison to the rough heaving chest his other arm was wrapped around. The tips of Ori’s light brown beard hung over Erestor’s shoulders, mingling with his own silken dark hair, juxtaposing textures erotic in their shifting as Ori thrusted against Erestor’s stomach. His hands dug into the elf’s shoulders for leverage as he drove forward, trying to gain the friction he desired. The dwarf’s urgent breaths were heavy and ragged, so different from the long sighs and moans that had come from Erestor before. This was fast, driven by desperation and shameless desire.

“Look at me,” Erestor whispered. Ori moved to rest his forehead against Erestor’s, the action causing their noses to bump awkwardly. Ori’s mouth opened in laughter that quickly became a sharp keening as one of Erestor’s hands disappeared between them to surround his neediness. That was what he wanted, that brilliant smoothness and pressure. Erestor did not think there was anything more beautiful to him then, the sight of his dwarf: face flushed, lips swollen, lashes fluttering as he lost himself at the pleasure of Erestor’s hand. Where Ori had been slow and tantalizing Erestor worked quickly pulling at the straining flesh, until Ori kissed him and cried his completion into Erestor’s mouth, the warm fluid coating the elf’s hand and their joined bodies.

Erestor stroked him until his breathing grew regular and Ori slumped against his chest. Then the dwarf was gently laid down on the bed and Erestor curled his own body around Ori’s smaller frame.

“I now see why this act is thought so highly of as to be equated with marriage.”

“Are we married then?”

“As well as we shall ever be, meleth nín.”

“Meleth nín?”

“My love.”

Ori wriggled closer to be enveloped in the elf’s long limbs as Erestor threw a leg and arm over his body to hold him. The elf kissed the deep depressions where Ori’s eyes were, now closed in bliss. It was tender, just a press of lips.

“Sleep now.”

“I won’t be able to.”

“Yes you will.”

“Then what of you?”

“I shall be here upon your awakening.”

“Even if Dori comes and finds us in the morning?”

“Even then, though that is a fate I hope we shall not meet.” 

Ori laughed. Erestor loved this too and he kissed the gentle curve at the sides of Ori’s mouth that only appeared when he smiled.

“Stop,” Ori complained, “I won’t be able to sleep if you keep kissing me. I’ll go find another bet, you see if I don’t.”

“We would not want that.”

“No, we wouldn’t.”

They stilled, glowing in the harmony of love making. Soon Erestor felt the gentle vibrations of Ori’s snores as his dwarf fell into sleep. He ought to rest himself, but he found that the usual calm that he drew to cloud his eyes and free his mind was inadequate. It removed him from a place he did not wish to leave. So for the night he chose to be aware of his surroundings and of the body beside him. Though he did not sleep, he was content. 

“You do not seem sad.”

“I am not. I will miss you, but I am terribly happy.”

“Do you doubt my loyalty?”

“Never.”

“Nor I yours.”

“Until we met again, meleth nín.”

“You have a good tongue for many things,” Erestor smirked. Ori blushed, which amused Erestor all the more. “When we see each other again I shall teach you more Elvish.”

“I would like that very much. But do write please.”

“As often as I can,” Erestor promised. Then he leaned down resting his cheek against Ori’s to whisper in his ear.

“Gerich veleth nín.”

Heels dug into the horse’s sides and Erestor was gone to join the leaving party. Ori did not know what he had just said, but he could guess. He had heard the syllable for love, after all. That was it, love. That was what kept him from sadness even at this parting for an unknown duration. Ori’s heart surged with pride as he watched his elf navigate his horse among the throng. The clasp in Erestor’s hair glinted, bright and obvious against the dark. Even if only they knew its significance it brought Ori pride to see his elf wearing it so openly. It was a signifier of Erestor’s love. Ori was uncertain about his future, but he did not think he could be anxious knowing Erestor loved him. This certainty would fortify his heart. He would work to build a successful life here in Erebor, surround himself with knowledge and pretty things. Undoubtedly, one day his Elf would return. Then they would rejoice in the objects of his creation and the love they had created. Ori did not need the connection of bodies to know Erestor would always be with him in spirit.


End file.
